it's ok to dip...

with special guests Anders Peltomaa (US) & Sue Taylor (AUS)

Sometimes, it’s ok to dip. In fact, honestly? I think it’s a basic fundamental of the entire practice of birding. To bird without dipping would be like crawling around in the sand pit as a child and not accidentally ingesting a mouthful or two. You know, the whole ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ thing? Sometimes that end destination has certain hiccoughs, and you’re not even sure if you’ll ever even make it. But that’s ok. These hits and misses, successes and failures are all a part of the birding journey. The rite of passage as it were, is jam packed with (hopefully) a joyous combination of successful twitchers and flummoxing dips. However, if you stick to it long enough, you’ll soon learn to appreciate that sometimes, it’s ok to dip. So, let’s get specific. What does it mean to dip? Dipping is another birding term we owe to the Brits. It specifically originates from the comically styled phrase “dip out”, which basically acknowledges a failed attempt to locate a target bird. Ie. “We dipped on the Grey-streaked Flycatcher”. The common misconception (at least in my opinion) is that dipping is exclusive to vagrants and rare birds. I disagree with this principle. I think one can dip on something as simple as trying to scope an albatross from land on a windy day, or seeing if the White-throated Nightjar has returned from their migration. The only rule really is, missing a bird (or species) that you especially went out with the intention of seeing. So really, dipping is all relative.

A Fiordland Penguin I once drove through the night to see - only to find it had swam back to New Zealand by morning

A Northern Shoveler that disappeared for the only day I went to the 1200km+ effort to see

A leucistic Welcome Swallow that took me over 20 visits to the Western Treatment Plant to finally see

When I was a beginner birding, I had loads of what I would now consider to be little dipping experiences. As I started to build my life list, I would travel all over Melbourne to various woodlands, wetlands, and grasslands trying to find Scarlet Myzomela, Powerful Owl and Grey-tailed Tattler. I soon learned that just because someone else had seen them, or that they were ‘common’ in the area, didn’t necessarily mean I was going to have any success myself. Consequently, my progression to being the birder I am today was riddled with dips.

For those that regularly read this website, you’ll know that I still continue to dip. Experience can help those earlier shortcomings, but dipping, in my opinion, is a completely non-discriminatory practice. All birders dip, you’re not alone! Everyone has a great dipping story! In fact, I have seen both Australia’s top twitchers and some of the country’s most novice birders both twitch and dip countless times before. But that’s all just part of the sport and adventure. The birding gods are unprejudiced and neutrally cruel to all birders.

My own dips? This year alone, I’ve had some crackers. I recently chased a Northern Shoveler which was a monstrous 1280 kilometre journey, that encouraged me to drive through the night in order to see it. Upon arrival, I searched and searched and searched but to no avail. Despite my persistence (along with the combined efforts of many local birders), we could not locate the brilliantly coloured breeding plumaged duck from the northern hemisphere. No matter, I returned to Melbourne. Following that, it was seen every day consecutively for almost two weeks. This, of course, took place almost immediately after I flew to New York. I had dipped and dipped very hard indeed.

Most recently though? A Fiordland penguin was found sitting comfortably on a beach, only a casual 480kms from my house. It was last seen just after sunset, so I packed ups things, drove through the night and arrived at dawn. A thorough scan on the entire coastline for many miles in either direction showed the bird had decided to in fact swim back to New Zealand. It was a sour 6-hour drive back home.

Time to get into the good stuff! I’ve asked two brilliants birders to share with us a paragraph or two on their most notable dips! What was that bird you just couldn’t connect with? The one that got away? The nemesis or bogey bird? Introducing Anders Peltomaa & Sue Taylor!

An American Golden Plover that took me 4 visits to successfully track down!

A Long-billed Dowitcher - a bird that I did manage to successfully twitch!

A Yellow Bittern that posed beautifully for me after a 1,700km journey from Melbourne

ANDERS PELTOMAA:On October 1, 2014, Brooklyn birder Shane Blodgett found a Northern Wheatear (Oenanthe oenanthe) at Plumb Beach. As soon as I saw the alert I knew what I would be doing the next day, which happened to be a day off work. Every summer I see dozens of Wheatears around our summer cottage back home in Sweden, but this would be a first for my New York list and North America for that matter.

The next day I took the B-train from home to Sheepshead Bay, the nearest subway station to Plumb Beach and then walked the 2 km to the beach itself. Plum Beach would not be your first choice for a swim, there is a lot of trash, it is a historic place for streakers and a hookup sex scene. Nevertheless, there was a Wheatear to be found, so I focused on the birds and was careful not to point my binoculars in the wrong direction. The had been reported early in the morning, so I was hopeful to get an addition to my American List. But after a good 4 hours of searching, I had to admit defeat.

A couple of days later a friend called and said he was driving out for the wheatear and asked if I wanted to come along. I said, Sure! We went and spent another few hours looking for the damn wheatear. Second dip!

The following weekend I went out with my best birding mate, Richard Fried and scoured Plumb Beach for a third day. Again the bird had been seen early in the morning, but for the handful of hours we were there, it had gone in stealth mode. Third dip and Northern Wheatear was now officially a nemesis bird.

​SUE TAYLOR:I’ve dipped on many species. In fact, it is rare for me to see a target species on my first attempt. I drove across the Nullarbor twice before I saw my first Nullarbor Quail-thrush, then twice more before I added Naretha Bluebonnet to my Life List. But, without a doubt, my biggest bogey bird is the White-necked Petrel.

This beautiful seabird breeds on Kermadec Island in New Zealand and visits the east coast of Australia in summer. A few birds also breed on Phillip Island off Norfolk. I have driven to New South Wales from Melbourne (mainly to Wollongong, but more recently to Kiama and also Port Stephens) on 13 occasions hoping for a White-necked Petrel. Twice Port Stephens pelagics have been cancelled and my trip was in vain. Once a Port Stephens pelagic was cancelled before I left home. I’m not sure which is more frustrating – to drive there and not go out to sea, or to be told not to bother driving up at all. Last April, I flew to the Gold Coast and did a Southport pelagic in the hope of seeing my bogey bird. A White-necked Petrel had been seen the week before, and I thought my chances were quite good. However, again I dipped. This bird is becoming quite expensive!

The new Australian Bird Guide (Menkhorst et al) classifies the White-necked Petrel as vulnerable and states that it is ‘Rare to uncommon/may be difficult.’ I can vouch for that!

​A couple of tips on dipping. The first one is going to be hard. The second one is going to be hard. The third one, the eleventh one, the thirty-eighth one…you get the picture. Dipping doesn’t get easier. You feel the sting as much as you did over the dip before. But look on the bright side. Dipping builds excellent character. Worst case, you’ve had a couple of laughs and now have some excellent stories to tell on your return. If you’re lucky, you might have still scored some excellent birds along the way or met some like-minded people you may not have otherwise. It’s all relative and a dip (or triumph), will be exactly what you make it, whether a success or not!

It's important to remember that the successful twitches (seemingly), far outrank the failures. In the length of my own birding career, I've hopped a plane, driven through the night, etc etc and twitched 42 vagrant birds around Australia. Out of all those attempts, I have only failed 3 times, so as far as I'm concerned, that's a pretty good ratio!

To leave you on an inspired note, here's a rather brilliant quote on dipping by North American birder and scientist Nicholas Lund, at the end of the day, “the true measure of a developing birder is that you still go out after that next one!”. I certainly know which duck I’ll be chasing when my plane touches back down in Australia! ​​Finally, I want you to embrace your dips! Wear them as badges of honour and share your stories! Give us your best dips in the comments below!

James Mustafa is a birder, wildlife enthusiast and self-confessed twitcher from Melbourne, Australia. A musician and composer by trade, he has been birding, exploring nature and appreciate wildlife for all his life. Since taking up a fascinating with birds, he has soared with tropicbirds in the Indian Ocean, chased owls in North America, danced with kiwi in New Zealand and twitched everything from gulls to leaf warblers across Australia.